


Sick? In My House?

by keep_me_alone



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Also sorry for the formatting i wrote this on my phone, Anyways not properly proofread bc it is just a plot bunny, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, LMAO, Reluctant Hurt/Comfort, Sick Character, Sickfic, its mostly just harvey being a dick, this is not a serious fic at all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-12-30 08:32:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12104799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keep_me_alone/pseuds/keep_me_alone
Summary: I'm watching Suits again and every time Mike sleeps on Harvey's couch I think, what if he got sick there though. So this is that.





	Sick? In My House?

"Mike?" yelled Harvey, walking into his house. It was weird. Usually he was sitting at the table waiting for him to get home like some kind of creepy, overgrown puppy. "Mike?" He called again. There. Some grumbling from the couch. Harvey set down his bag and went to look.  
"You've got to be fucking kidding me."  
"I'm sleeping. Go away."  
"Are you sick right now?" Harvey demanded. "You look sick." Mike made a gesture that Harvey guessed was a shrug, but it was hard to tell under the blankets.  
"You know stress is bad for your immune system," Mike mumbled, his face mashed into a pillow. "Maybe you should've gone easier on me." His eyes were half closed and puffy. He looked disgusting,  Harvey thought.  
"Are you seriously blaming me for this?"  Mike shrugged again.  
"Gotta blame someone."  
"Dammit Mike, I don't have time to take care of you," Harvey groused.  
"Didn't ask you to." Mike pulled the blankets over his head. Harvey stood for a moment, scowling.  
"Wait here," he said, redundantly,  since it was obvious Mike wasn't capable of going anywhere at the moment. He returned with a thermometer, a small miracle that he even owned one, and came around to the front of the couch. He pulled the blankets down so Mike's face was visible.  
"Open up." He demanded. Mike half opened his mouth to ask a question and Harvey slid the thermometer in.  
"You could've just-,"  
"Close your mouth," Harvey interrupted. Mike did as he was told. He waited until it beeped, looked at the numbers himself.  
"101," he mumbled, setting it down on the coffee table. Harvey looked at in with distaste.  
"I take it you aren't gonna die?"  
"No, not yet."  
"Good. I don't need to deal with a corpse on my couch." Harvey shot back, taking in the sweat shining on Mike's face, most likely sinking into Harvey's expensive cushions. "Did you really have to do this here?" He wondered, a little less snappish and a little more exasperated.  
"Zn't on purpose," Mike replied.  
"Ok well, unlike some of us, I have work in the morning, so I'm going to bed. There's probably some Tylenol or something in the medicine cabinet."  
"Can I have some water too?" Mike asked.  
"Jesus, what am , your mother?" He * _thought_ * he heard Mike mutter 'grandmother' into his pillow. "Oh my God, you're delirious with fever." Harvey replied. "I'm gonna have to take you out back and shoot you."  
"Does this condo even have a backyard?" Harvey ignored that, as he did with most of Mike's jokes, but he got the water anyways.


End file.
